Brittany Huff and Joe Fatheree occupy a rare lane in public education: two instructional technology coaches who not only introduce teachers to new tools, but also build entire learning experiences from scratch, grounded in safety, ethics, and the irreplaceable human element of teaching. They come from different generations, different hometowns, and different entry points into education—but together, they're reshaping what's possible for classrooms at Centralia High School.

Brittany is a Centralia native and a 2008 graduate—two years in the old building, two in the new—who always knew she wanted to teach. Her second- and third-grade teachers, Peggy Amason and Cindy Kessler, made the job look joyful and important enough that she set up a chalkboard in her garage, assigned homework to neighborhood kids, and ran a pretend school each summer. "I had a school in my garage in the summer, all the things. Did legitimate homework," she says. "It's still there." Today she teaches five sections of Algebra I, all freshmen, and devotes one class period each day to instructional coaching.

Joe's path is almost the reverse. Originally from "metropolitan Xenia"—population around 450—he had zero interest in teaching when he was young. His kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Stanley, followed him through sixth, seventh, and eighth grade, shaping him with high expectations and even higher belief. "We had many epic battles. She won every one of them," he says. When he later recognized himself in the kids who needed a champion, he entered the profession. "I dedicated 34 years of teaching to Mrs. Stanley, and that's why I'm sitting here today because of somebody like her." He taught for more than 34 years in Effingham before retiring and moving to Centralia to be closer to family. This is his second year here.

Together they serve as instructional technology coaches, a role that often requires them to help teachers redesign lessons, integrate new tools, co-teach in classrooms, and create innovations teachers don't yet know are possible. "They don't know what they don't know," Brittany says, which is why she and Joe spend entire semesters meeting with departments, surfacing needs, and building projects alongside teachers.

COVID was an inflection point. Brittany had already been managing the VR lab, and during remote learning, the need for support exploded. When Joe arrived two years ago, the district's vision expanded. "We've just been able to take that to a whole ‘nother level," she says.

AI is their current frontier, and they approach it with both excitement and extreme caution. Joe compares today's moment to the detonation at Trinity: enormous potential, almost no regulation. "Robert Oppenheimer and a group of scientists came out and said, we've got to find a way to control this. We can't have this out everywhere." But that didn't happen with Sam Altman, who "just said, here it is." Now the world must find its footing. Joe's priority is helping teachers understand the technology without replacing what makes them uniquely human.

Their AI projects are wide-ranging. In health occupations, they helped create synthetic patients—a 57-year-old man with cardiovascular issues and a 70-year-old African American woman with Alzheimer's—so students could practice communication, empathy, and clinical reasoning. Teachers remained the experts in the room; the AI simply created practice scenarios that didn't exist before.

In English, they built a writing-feedback chatbot. Students wrote their essays by hand or on paper first. "We're not going straight to the AI to begin the writing process. We can't take that away from the kids," Brittany says. The bot was heavily constrained—able to identify run-ons, ask questions, or challenge logic, but not allowed to rewrite the work. When one student questioned the AI's feedback, the teacher encouraged them: "You should absolutely question that." High-achieving students learned to push back, not surrender.

They also created mock-interview systems for employment prep and professional practice. Magic School—the only AI tool currently permitted for students—provides the needed controls and reporting to keep everything safe.

Outside AI, they've launched a seven-member Innovation Group of seniors, exposing them to robotics, high-level tech, and real-world problem-solving. One student, Lauren Neiderhofer, is now planning to intern next semester to determine whether she should pursue AI and robotics in college.

Joe is quick to credit the district: Superintendent Chuck Lane, CHS Principal Reid Shipley, and the board that invests in positions like theirs. "We wouldn't be sitting here without administrators who understand the value," he says.

And he's equally quick to credit Brittany. "The reason this works is I'm semi-retired... It works because of her," he insists. She knows the community, the staff, and the students. Her reputation is why teachers trust the process.

Both believe the same thing: technology can amplify learning, but relationships are the foundation. Centralia High School has those relationships, and these two coaches are helping make sure the school's future keeps pace with the world—without losing the humanity that makes it special.